Always tackling the tough issues that nobody else wants to go near, I want to write about salad dressing today.
I eat a pretty healthy amount of salad, as I almost always have a mighty big bowl of it with dinner. Of course, I need some sort of a salad dressing to go with it, and that's where things get tricky.
I've tried making my own dressings before. I make a pretty decent Asian vinaigrette using rice vinegar, soy sauce and olive oil, but all I did was follow the directions on the back of the rice vinegar for that one. I've made a halfway decent Caesar, but even though I do it the same way I see the guy at the fancy Italian restaurant do it, mine comes up short. Other efforts have been less than stellar.
I don't know why I can't seem to make one that I like. My mom always made her own dressing, and although I don't care for it too much (not enough bite to it) lots of people have raved about it. (She does make a really good Caesar and an awesome mustard vinaigrette that I wish I could duplicate - every time I've tried, it's tasted like ass.)
I've pretty much given up, so I buy dressing now. There are very few out there that I can buy. Pretty much everything Paul Newman has is good stuff, so it's not too much of a problem, although his are pretty expensive. Even his ranch is pretty decent, but I rarely ever use that - I buy it more for my wife. I think that ranch is for people who don't like the taste of vegetables, as it completely drowns out the taste of everything.
But what's up with that crap that Kraft makes? Ever look at the ingredients to their dressings, especially their Italian ones? What the hell is all that shit in there? All you need for Italian is oil, vinegar, and spices - end of list! The thing is, my in-laws buy that stuff, and that stuff is in the faculty cafeteria; however, I seem to be the only person who thinks it's too funky to use. There's something just so...I don't know...unnatural about it. I don't know what that flavor is, but it sure as hell ain't oil and vinegar. It's the juice that Satan squeezes from his horns, and I feel like Winston Smith in 1984 when I bring this up, 'cause nobody else seems to feel the same way.
Okay, that's all. Send the hate mail.